


Written in the Scars

by ravenslight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angsty-ish, F/M, Prophecy, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-21 01:36:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13730340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenslight/pseuds/ravenslight
Summary: As Hermione Granger grows, a scar resembling a word appears on her arm. At ten years old, the scar has coalesced into a single word: Mudblood. One day, the nurse that delivers her shows up on the Granger's doorstep. Hermione is a witch, and this man bears a foreboding explanation for the scar. A time travel fic in which the future has been tilted off its axis. Eventual Dramione. AU





	1. Ordior

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello, loves! One longish author's note coming up. I'm back with a new username and fic. After a bit of an issue with real-life people being incredibly problematic, I decided to cut ties with my old pen name and come up with a new one. So, a new pen name means a new fic! This is quite a bit outside of my comfort zone, so I'd appreciate any constructive feedback you give me. This will eventually be Dramione, but it's going to take a while to get there. Sit down and stay a while; hopefully, the premise is enough to keep you reading. This is an AU fic, so I'll be playing fast and loose with canonical elements. As this is the preface, this chapter is significantly shorter than subsequent chapters.
> 
> Beta/Alpha love to Luca Agneta and mamaHD, without whom this fic would still be hiding in my documents untouched. They are absolutely wonderful and have helped me more than they know.

I wrote this chapter to JFDR's "Instant Patience." Give it a listen as you read if you feel so inclined.  
_Fairly puzzled by / How we are fate's production_

* * *

 

Hermione Granger is born flawlessly to Muggle parents on 19 September 1979. She enters the world screaming plaintively, as though she knows that she has been brought into a world of turmoil and craves the safety of her mother’s womb once more. Her already messy mane of tightly-curled locks is plastered to her olive skin, trying to soothe her melancholic cries.

The doctor hands her to waiting nurse to clean up, a severe-looking man whose scowl displays his dissatisfaction with his current career choice. The scowl deepens when he is handed the small child, but he takes the child away without comment. His greasy hair, tied back into a haphazard, low ponytail held in place by a small piece of black cloth, trails him out of the room. He returns minutes later, the babe cleaned and swaddled in a small purple blanket.

As the doctor hands her to her mother, he beams and asks expectantly, “Name?”

Her mother cradles the baby in the crook of her arm and stares at her wondrously. Her father coos and runs a tentative finger over the babe’s arm. Tentative, like he might break her or she might disappear if he does not take the utmost care with her. The doctor clears his throat quietly, and the trance breaks. Mother and father look at one another and answer simultaneously, “Hermione Jean.”

Pleased, the doctor backs away, leaving the parents to fawn over the newborn.

Brown eyes blink up at the duo, squinting in the light of the sterile hospital room. Despite her birth only minutes before, the little girl has a peculiar awareness in her eyes, almost like she is witnessing a scene she has seen a hundred times before.

Mother and father laugh at the serious expression. The baby has not uttered a sound beyond its scream for breath upon entrance into the world. Preternatural silence surrounds her as she breaths out, slowly, evenly. She surveys the room around her with nary a blink. Her parents pay no heed, lost in their joy at the newest addition to their family. She is perfect. She is theirs.

Though they do not realize it, she is not the daughter they anticipated.

* * *

Several hundred miles away, in a stone castle standing near a lake, a robed woman stands arranging and rearranging teacups on shelves. The teetering stack nears the ceiling, but she pays no heed to their disarray. Surrounded by the dry heat of her cloying incense smoke and illuminated by a single low lamp, the woman hums a tune in minor key. She nears the melody when she freezes, and her eyes become blank.

She straightens her spine and stalks to the window, pushing aside heavy velvet curtains to gaze across the lake with unseeing eyes.

In a rasping voice, barely audible, she utters, “ _Born this night is one who will crumble empires and put a stopper in the tide of blood. Fool be those who cross her. She will crush her enemies with a storm of fury and fate, for she is not of this world. United by fissures wrought by hate, she will forge the bonds that destroy pestilence.”_

Her voice trails off into the dark corners of the room where the light does not reach. Slowly, she seems to come back to herself and begins to hum the same tune as before. If her sudden missing memory and changed location bother her, she gives no indication. She removes her hand from the curtain and allows it to drop back into place. The heavy fabric effectively mutes the bright moonlight that had washed over her lined face.

She resumes her task with the teacups. 

* * *

In the same castle, a gentle wind weaves in through an open window, disturbing the calm quiet. Dust motes dance in the moonlight of an open study where trinkets sit on shelves cluttered with books and debris. Portraits of men and women line the walls, and a phoenix slumbers on its perch near the center of the room.

On a low table near the wall, a book of parchment bound in leather flips open and a quill rises into the air as if by an unseen hand. The quill hovers over the book, then flits forward to dip into a pot of black ink. The quill pauses for just a moment, as if listening to something the breeze whispers to it, before it lowers to the page and scrawls across it in an elegant hand.

_Hermione Jean Granger._

The quill lifts from the page and pauses once more, admiring its handiwork. Then, it deftly rises into the air and deposits itself once more on the desk. Upon the quill’s contact with the pitted wood, the name on the parchment glows bright gold before settling back into the dull black of the ink. The parchment book flutters back closed.

The breeze dissipates and quiet resumes in the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand thanks to anyone who decides to continue reading this story! Updates will likely be sporadic; I have no set schedule as I'm super busy. Though I have three chapters prewritten, I don't want to post them all in rapid succession in case I don't get to write for a while!


	2. Vicis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, my lovely friends. I'm back with Chapter 1 of this fic, and I'm posting it much earlier than I originally intended! The reason for doing so is because you all made me feel so warm and fuzzy from your enthusiastic reception of the first chapter. I was going to wait until next weekend, but I'm feeling generous and didn't want you to wait in suspense! Once again, special love to Luca Agneta and mamaHD for their much-needed beta and alpha work on this fic, for without them there would be Americanisms abound.  
> Special shoutout to Coralyne, Nantai, .Stuff221, dramione101, WildflowerWeasley, Virginie Cires, TimeyWimeyMagicWagic, and, last but not least, percabethbooklion for the wonderful reviews on my first chapter. I sincerely appreciate the love!  
> Slight trigger warning for a scene questioning religion (just covering my bases). Without any further ado, on to Chapter 1!

I wrote this chapter to Our Last Night's cover of "Heavy" (originally by Linkin Park).  
_You say that I'm paranoid/ But I'm pretty sure the world is out to get me_

* * *

 

For as long as she could remember, Hermione had worn long sleeves. Or, at least,  _a_  long sleeve. She did not talk about the scar on her arm, and she did not permit the curious looks she received if the sleeve happened to ride up. At only eleven years and eight months old— _nearly_  twelve, she reminded her mother every time it came up—she had perfected a sneer that made even the most meddlesome of adults shy away. None dared to ask her parents about it either, for fear that their sneers were even more cutting. She had to have learned it somewhere.

Her parents, however, would be of no help to anyone either. The scar had appeared as she had grown.

Her father had noticed it when she was nearly nine months old. He'd been bathing her before laying her down for the night when he noticed a patch of angry red skin on his daughter's arm. He had frowned and called her mother in. Both of them had peered closely at the spot, then resolved that it was merely an allergic reaction to the bath soap. They'd thrown out the soap, dried Hermione off, put her in a fresh nappy and her duck pyjamas, then put her to bed for the evening, hoping it would be gone by morning.

Hermione's wails had awoken them mere hours later, and they discovered that the rash had not gone down overnight as they had hoped but instead erupted in angry red boils, almost like the entirety of her arm had been plunged into too-hot water. Her mother rushed her to the hospital.

The doctors had been bewildered. The phrase "never seen anything like this" had been uttered back and forth until Mrs Granger, raw with nerves and worry, had shouted at the doctors that  _she didn't care what they had and hadn't seen; just help her bloody baby._ Startled by her outburst, they had stared dumbfounded at her until the same nurse from Hermione's delivery had swept in seemingly out of nowhere and comforted the small child. Promising to get to the bottom of it and lancing the doctors with a deeply disappointed frown, the man had swept out of the room with Hermione in his arms and the dumbfounded doctors trailing in his wake.

Twenty minutes later, the nurse had returned with Hermione's arm wrapped in gauze and an unlabeled bottle of lotion. He had passed both baby and bottle into Mrs Granger's hands.

As he handed off the baby, the nurse looked Mrs Granger in the eyes and said, "Use this on her arm once in the morning and once in the evening until it's gone. No more, no less." The nurse swept from the room without giving Mrs Granger any time to respond.

The lotion had done its job and the blisters had disappeared, though not without leaving a small, ugly scar about three and a half inches long.

All had been quiet for nearly two months until Mr Granger again noticed something strange on his daughter's arm. Anxious, they rushed her to the hospital again, but the doctors said it was nothing to worry about. Once again, the nurse reappeared, pressing the same bottle of lotion into the distraught mother's hand and leveling them with his stern eyes. He repeated the same message:  _Once in the morning, once in the evening until the lotion is gone. No more, no less_. Sure enough, the mark disappeared a few days later, leaving behind a slightly darker tinge.

Though neither Mr nor Mrs Granger would acknowledge it, both of them wondered if the other thought the scar was beginning to look like writing.

All had been quiet over the next year. The Grangers had tried not to make a fuss of the scar on her arm, but they still received odd looks whenever someone saw it. It was for that very reason that Hermione's first word had been "stop," accompanied by a glare she undoubtedly adopted from her mother, though it was vaguely reminiscent of the stern nurse's. As good as her parents' intentions had been, they hadn't been able to stop Hermione from developing an aversion to the mark.

Anyone would be ashamed of something that caused their parents to visibly recoil and scowl.

Nearly a month after her second birthday, the spot flared again. Hermione had woken up crying for her parents in the middle of the night, and they flew down the hallway to the purple painted room. Angry red welts had popped up again, that time an unmistakable  _M_.

They had rushed to the hospital, foregoing the doctors that rushed to their aid, and asked for the one person who had been able to help them. But he was gone. The staff hadn't known where he had gone, and they hadn't had any records of him having worked there in the first place. Reluctantly, they handed Hermione over to a doctor outfitted in a white mask and blue surgical gloves, and they set up vigil in the waiting room.

Two hours later, the doctor had emerged from the room with no more answers than before. They left with silent tears streaming down Hermione's face while she clutched a small stuffed dog to her chest. The doctor had wrapped a pitiful sterilized bandage around the welts but said he could do no more until he knew what was causing them.

That was the problem;  _no one_  knew what was causing them.

Hermione had been put to bed still silently crying, and Mrs Granger sat beside her bed keeping watch. When Hermione had finally fallen asleep, Mrs Granger had cried herself to sleep in the rocking chair.

The pattern repeated every few months. The scar would flare to life for a few days, then the mysterious nurse would sometimes appear—though not always—and provide Hermione's parents with the mysterious salve. During a particularly bad night when she was five, Hermione's parents rushed her to the hospital when they discovered her in her bed with bloody scratches crisscrossing the strange mark where she'd been scratching at it in her sleep.

They'd once more rushed her to the hospital, but to no avail. Her mother had once more cried herself to sleep in the rocking chair of Hermione's lavender bedroom while her father nursed a finger of whiskey neat, both at a loss for what to do.

Early the next morning, a knock at the door startled Mrs Granger awake. She'd tried to tiptoe down the hall, so she wouldn't wake Hermione, but her daughter had also been awoken by the sharp rap on the door.

Though she was sure her mother would be heartbroken over it, that evening and the following morning were Hermione's first clear memories. She'd crept down the hall after her mother and watched as she opened the door and startled at the man standing there.

Once again, the nurse from the hospital had come to save the day.

Her mother, still agog at the man showing up on her doorstep, hadn't stopped him from sweeping over the threshold and into the house. He had stopped at the piano just inside the living room and pulled three large containers of salve out of the small, worn bag he carried in one hand.

 _There's no way that a bag that small can carry so many big bottles_ , Hermione thought, but she didn't want to give away her spot in the shadow just beyond the doorway. Maybe the bag just looked smaller than it was from so far away.

By the time the man had finished putting the bottles on the piano, Hermione's mother had regained her wits.

"You—you're the nurse from the hospital. The staff said they had no idea who you were. That you just—showed up the day Hermione was born and again when we brought her in with the blisters."

The man inclined his head once, a pained grimace on his face, as though it annoyed him to be remembered so well. "I am."

"Who  _are_ you?" her mother whispered.

The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his rather beaklike nose. Hermione had thought that he almost looked like a wizard, much closer to a wizard than her father had looked when he had dressed up as one for the previous Halloween, but her mum had said that wizards weren't real.

The man looked up after a few seconds and said, "I cannot tell you much about me, but you may call me Sev." The man looked physically ill to say this; he was obviously not comfortable with the nickname but looked disinclined to disclose his real name.

Hermione had tried not to giggle. He had not looked like a Sev.

Her mother had apparently agreed. "Sev?"

The man had given yet another single, weary nod and beckoned toward the hallway. "I believe the child is in need of help," he paused, then said in a drawling voice, "You can come out."

Hermione had felt like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but she slowly walked out of the corridor where she'd been crouched by the stairs.

She couldn't remember much of what had happened after that—she'd only been five, after all—but she remembered that the man—Sev, she'd reminded herself—had once more applied the cream to her blisters and left.

Sev became a relatively permanent fixture in Hermione's life, though Hermione could never be sure where he lived or how he managed to know exactly when she needed help. Hermione had a normal childhood other than the scar. It had flared up periodically, and each time it changed its appearance. However, despite the salve that Sev periodically brought her, by the time she was in primary school, the scar had looked less like blisters and more like a word.

She tried to tell her classmates that she hadn't actually cut a word into herself, but none of them believed her. No one wanted to play with a little girl who had the word  _Mud_  carved into her arm.

So, she had learned to play by herself. She read as much as she could and tried to ignore the way the other children made fun of her. She requested long sleeve clothing and wouldn't wear a shirt without sleeves. She stopped talking at school and eventually was sent to the school counselor because the teachers were worried about her.

At just six years old, the school counselor told her that maybe she needed to try to be less strange around her classmates; her silence made the other students scared of her. Her parents had pulled her out of school and her mother left her parents' dentist practice to teach her.

By the time she was eight years old, Hermione had asked her parents to remove the large full-length mirror in her bedroom so she wouldn't have to see the scar in the mirror. She didn't know what she had done to deserve it, but she hated to be reminded that it was there.

She hated that it made her different.

Hermione had asked her father to remove the mirror on a weekday, so she should have known that he wouldn't get to it right away. However, every time she looked at it, she felt the same deepening well of anger rise up in her gut. It was a visceral reaction; she was powerless to help it.

One afternoon, she had stared into the mirror as though she could will it away when the mirror had shattered into pieces. She remembered leaping back, momentarily shocked before a small smile curved her lips upward. Her mother had come running into the room only to find Hermione standing before a pile of broken glass, shards in her hair where it had blown outward.

She'd become withdrawn and angry, but her parents tried to make up for the loss of school-age friends by spending as much time with her as they could. They showered her with books and love, and they still loved her, no matter how ugly the mark on her arm was.

Sev still brought her lotion and it made it better. It became less red every time she used it, but it still maintained the shiny, pink quality of a particularly nasty scar.

By the time she was ten, the scar spelled out a word:  _Mudblood._

Hermione didn't know what that meant. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. She went to church with her parents, and she knew about God. She wasn't sure what she had done to make Him mad, but she thought He had obviously marked her so that He would know not to let her in when she finally came to heaven.

Maybe that was why she could make things move if she really concentrated enough. Maybe she actually  _had_  broken the mirror without touching it. She'd tried to tell her parents, but neither of them had believed her.

Sev had believed her.

Shaking herself from her trip down memory lane, Hermione rubbed at the sleeve over her scar. Even when it was covered, she could feel its presence like a giant, ugly tattoo.

Still, Hermione had decided when she had turned ten that she was going to be different. The stupid scar wasn't going to make her hide away anymore. She wanted to ask her parents if they would put her back in school. She knew her mum missed being a dentist, but she would never say anything to Hermione. Her mum loved her and would do anything for her, but she'd already done a lot.  _Too much_ , Hermione thought. Besides, she was almost twelve, and twelve was when all the heroines of her favorite books started making their own decisions.

A knock at the door sounded, but Hermione ignored it. She was trying to read even though her mind kept drifting. It wasn't until she heard her mum call her name that she put the book aside. She sat up and stretched. She'd been sitting in bed too long, but she was enjoying the last bits of her summer. If she convinced her parents to allow her to go back to school, she'd have to start term in September. Even though it was only the end of July, Hermione wanted to enjoy her remaining freedom. Rubbing at her arm one last time, she swung her legs over the bed and marched down the corridor to the living room.

Once she got there, she saw Sev sitting stiffly on the settee, arms resting uncomfortably at his side and eyebrows slanted downward. Hermione started. She'd seen Sev quite a lot, but today he looked—different.

In place of his usual attire of a plain jumper, black trousers, and trainers, he was wearing a strange robe. Forbiddingly black in colour, it looked much too thick to be worn in the middle of March, even in England. The robe reminded Hermione of a frock coat, which she decided was a decidedly unflattering look on the man. His strange dress was accentuated with his loose black hair, which Hermione had never seen free of the black fabric tying it back.

Stepping out of the shadows, Hermione bounded forward to wrap her arms around Sev's middle. Despite his severe look, Hermione felt his body shake with a small chuckle, though she would never have been able to tell from the expression on his face when she leaned away.

"Hermione," the man bobbed his head in his signature, solitary nod.

"You look different today," Hermione tried to inquire stealthily. Hermione knew that she hadn't quite succeeded when she saw the Sev's eyes brighten slightly with buried mirth.

"I do. We'll wait for your mother and father for a while, and I'll tell you why," Sev responded solemnly, inspecting the framed photos on the wall across from the sofa.

Hermione dipped her head and sat obediently next to Sev on the sofa. She knew her mum was in the kitchen making tea for their guest and her father would be home shortly from work.

Hermione asked Sev about his newest book, and she tried not to feel too important that the man was talking to her, even if it was about science and things she didn't quite understand. Sure enough, in the middle of the conversation, her father walked in the door.

"Sev!" her father greeted. "I wasn't expecting you. Give me just a minute, if you don't mind?"

Sev waved him off. "Take your time."

A few moments later, both her father and mother walked into the room, her mother bearing a tray of good china and tea. After making the tea to Sev's liking—as dark as it could be steeped—her mother settled in and leveled an expectant look at him.

"I believe you said you had important news for us, Sev?" her mother prodded.

Another single incline of Sev's head met her mother's question while she sipped her tea. After a beat, he rearranged himself on the couch and reached into the folds of what Hermione could only describe as robes. From within, he produced a letter sealed with a large blob of wax.

"I've come to give you this." Hermione was surprised when Sev turned to hand the letter to her. She met the man's eyes, a question obvious in her own.

Sev sighed. "My name is actually Severus Snape. I am the Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." A beat passed while every Granger in the room stared at him with their mouths agape.

"I am here today, Ms and Drs Granger, to extend an invitation to attend our school to your daughter. We also have many other things to talk about," he explained. Sev— _Severus_ , Hermione reminded herself of the odd name, too shocked to process the other parts of the conversation—turned back to Hermione, and she noticed the man's gaze linger on her forearm, where the scar was, before he said:

"You're a witch, Ms Granger."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! ~C


	3. Cēlō

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, loves! I'm back with Chapter 2 and a shortish note. I'm sorry I didn't post last weekend! Due to a death in the family, I took a step back from writing for a little bit to be with family. However, I'm back with this chapter and hope you enjoy it! I am eternally grateful to MamaHD and Luca Agneta for their continual help with this. They are wonderful, and any issues within are solely my own.
> 
> Special shoutout to I.Like.Stuff221, imasurvivor21, WildflowerWeasley, JuliSt, In Dreams, TimeyWimeyMagicWagic, Kyonomiko, EStrunk, Toastie, Pastelize, EssTheDreamer, sunshine.katz, Nantai, Coralyne, and ClumsyKnowItAll for the wonderful reviews last chapter. You all certainly know how to make a girl grin like mad!

I wrote this chapter to "Shake It Out" by Florence + The Machine  
_So I like to keep my issues strong/ But it's always darkest before the dawn_

* * *

**Cēlō**  ●  **2**

 _You're a witch, Ms. Granger._ The words echoed in Hermione's head as she stared at the man in front of her. Suddenly, Sev no longer seemed to remind her of the safety she'd come to associate with him from his continual supply of the lotion he'd supplied her with for nearly the last eleven years.

He was a stranger wearing a familiar face.

The stunned silence was broken by her mum's strangled laugh. "That's—that's  _impossible._ Witches aren't real!" She looked between Severus and her husband. "Hugh, you can't tell me you actually believe him!"

"Of course not, Jean!" her father spluttered, looking every bit the rabbit in the headlights.

Severus cleared his throat, glancing between the two of them. "I believe the letter will explain, if you will, Ms Granger." He glanced pointedly at the letter and Hermione reddened, once again caught in his somber gaze. She looked to both her parents, who nervously indicated for her to open it. With a deep breath, Hermione slid her thumb over the wax seal and carefully broke it. Inside were two heavy sheets of parchment.

 

_Dear Ms Granger,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress._

 

The second page of the letter was filled with items that Hermione would need to attend the school. Her eyes widened at the words  _wand_ and  _cauldron_. She couldn't bring herself to ask why first-year students weren't allowed to have a broomstick; did someone else clean for her?

With unusual stillness, she handed the letter to her parents, who quickly read through both letters. Hugh laughed disbelievingly and stood from the couch. Hermione's racing mind ground to a halt when Hugh leveled a look at Severus and said, "You need to get out of our house."

Even Jean squeaked quietly in surprise. Hermione's father was not one to get angry, but his face was thunderous, and his voice brooked no room for argument. Hermione even shrank back into the cushions, unwilling to be in the line of his sight with a glare as menacing as the one that currently played across his features.

Severus, however, paid no heed to her parents and stood. He crossed the room to the small fireplace, hands clasped behind his back and robes swirling around his legs. His  _cloak,_ Hermione belatedly reminded herself, thinking of the list sent with the letter. The robes were likely underneath that.

When he reached the fireplace, he stared pensively into the small grate for a moment then turned back to address her parents. "In the short time that I have known you, have you ever known me to put your daughter in harm's way?"

Silence met his question, as neither parents could say that he had. If anything, he had saved their daughter from harm more often than they could count.

"I will take your silence in answer to that question to mean that no, I have not ever harmed Hermione." Severus reached into the depths of his robes and pulled out a handful of green powder. "However, I see that it will take more convincing to prove that I am, in fact, being truthful. Might I borrow your fireplace?"

Though he asked for permission, he did not wait for an answer. Severus waved his hand over the small hearth and flames sprang to life, despite the missing kindling. Hermione gasped and her heart began to race. Glancing over his shoulder, Severus tossed the green powder into the flames.

The orange flames turned the same hue as the powder and silenced reigned in the sitting room. Seconds later, a voice issued from the flames, making all the Grangers jump.

"Who can I be of service to so unexpectedly?" The flames shifted and, much to the Grangers' utter astonishment, a head appeared in the flames. Genial and smiling, the man appeared to have an extremely long beard and wide, kind eyes were hidden behind half-moon spectacles. "Ahh, Severus. I was unaware that you would be contacting me by Floo today."

The man in the flames peered around Severus, observing the décor. "It appears that you've also connected an authorized Muggle home to the network, as well." Disapproval oozed in the old man's voice, though Hermione could see a twinkle in his eyes.

Her mother and father sat with identical looks of confusion written across their faces. Jean glanced at Hermione's father and uttered, "Muggle?"

The man in the fire tutted. "Care to explain yourself, Severus?"

Severus sighed and said, "I came to deliver Ms Granger's Hogwarts letter. I thought it would be better received coming from me rather than Minerva though I expected—" he paused "—complications. I added the Grangers' home to the Floo Network so that I might have assistance in verifying my claims." He glanced over his shoulder at Hermione's parents. "I daresay I've proven myself?"

Both of her parents nodded slowly.

Severus' mouth flattened into a thin line as he turned back to the flames. "I expect we'll be discussing this, Headmaster?"

Hermione watched the man's eyes twinkle once more in the flames. "Oh, right you are, dear Severus. Right, indeed. Toodlepip!" The flames shifted and died away once more as the old man disappeared.

Severus turned away from the emptied grate and observed the Grangers, all still silently staring into the fireplace where a face had just been speaking out of the flames.

With a deep sigh, he crossed the room and once again resumed his place on the settee. "I assume you all have some questions?"

Hermione's father was the first to gather enough wits about himself to ask simply, "How?"

Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer. She didn't know how she could be a witch, but it would explain a lot. She was beginning to connect the pieces of information she had—accidentally exploding the mirror in her bedroom, moving things around the house when she was particularly upset, the time she accidentally changed her toothbrush bristles purple. It made sense. She'd known something was happening, and she suspected that Sev hadn't told her everything he knew. She always wondered how he'd known exactly when she needed help. She supposed this was her answer.

Severus opened her mouth to speak, but she beat him to it. "Is this why I can do things other kids can't? Is this why you believed that I was the one who exploded the mirror?"

Severus nodded gravely. "You, Ms Granger, are what we call a Muggle-born in the wizarding world." Her eyebrows drew together in confusion when he paused. "This simply means that you were born to non-magical parents. The bloodline that you come from did not previously have magic in it."

Hermione simply stared at him, and he mumbled under his breath, "This is why they usually send Minerva," before he continued his explanation.

"When individuals with magical potential are born, their names are recorded by a magical quill in Hogwarts. Every student who has attended Hogwarts has been recorded in the same book, which resides in Hogwarts castle, located in Scotland," he intoned with slight irritation. "Students are notified of their acceptance into Hogwarts when they turn eleven. However, as you would turn eleven after the term begins, you have been notified early and will start school just before you turn eleven."

At this, her father shot up off the couch. "Now, wait a bloody minute! No one has said anything about Hermione actually attending your school! Don't you think you ought to ask her parents' permission before assuming she will attend?"

Severus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose once more. "This is where this explanation gets tricky." He gestured to the seat that Mr Granger had just vacated. "I don't wish to presume to order you about your own home, Dr Granger, but you should have a seat when I explain."

Hermione watched the interaction with a shrewd expression, but it was her mother who asked, "Explain what?"

Severus looked down, seeming to steel himself before making his revelation. When he looked up, his eyes were hard and unforgiving. "Though this is the first time of this timeline, this will not be the first time your daughter attends Hogwarts. She has, though I loathe to admit it, attended Hogwarts once before."

Jean and Hugh exchanged glances, and the dull beat of Hermione's heart sped to a gallop. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. As young as she was, she could still recognize the hesitant expression on Sev's face: he was hiding what her mum called a Big Truth. There was something important he wasn't telling them. "But that's not possible," Jean protested. "If students aren't accepted until they turn eleven, then—"

Severus interrupted her with a raised brow. "It is not as simple as that, I am afraid."

Neither of Hermione's parents answered, almost as though they couldn't bring themselves to ask what it was that Sev meant. Hermione, though, could not handle the silence and leveled her big, brown eyes on Severus' and asked, "What do you mean?"

Severus stood once more and Hermione watched him pace to the fireplace, hands once more clasped behind his back. It was, Hermione realised, a nervous tick.

Despite her youth, Hermione had become accustomed to watching others' mannerisms. It was beneficial when one had to worry about someone recoiling from a scar she couldn't help. She'd realised that some people were more likely to disregard her scar out of kindness. Some would stare openly and with disgust. Others looked at her with pity.

The pity was the worst.

Sev, though, had never looked at her with any of those emotions. He, of all people, seemed to understand her. He, too, covered his left arm at all times. She'd only seen the tattoo on his arm once, and she hadn't asked him about it.

He'd been quick to explain though, unlike her own resounding silence on her scar. "It's a reminder of something very bad that I did once. Something I spend every day working to fix."

He'd left it at that, and she never asked him about it.

In some ways, she wondered if her own scar was a result of something horrible she had done. Maybe in another life, like the stories she'd heard about birthmarks. She'd never wanted to know what she had done to earn such a mark, but it appeared that today would be the day her blissful innocence was shattered.

Hermione looked back and forth between her parents, who stared at Sev's back as he stared into the fireplace. She wasn't sure what was going on, but she was sure of one thing.

She trusted Sev. Even if his name was Severus Snape. Even if he looked much different in these robe things. Even if he had kept something secret from her. He was like her: he kept a part of himself hidden from the world.

Whatever he had to say, she trusted him.

So Hermione stood up and crossed the room. She stood next to the tall, greasy-haired man and turned her face up to stare intently at him, and then she did something she'd never done before.

She slid her small hand into his and squeezed.

Sev started at the small contact, his sharp eyes staring at her. Hermione knew the man was particular about contact of any kind, but she'd come to love the man and knew that he wouldn't intentionally put her in harm's way. He was like the stern uncle she'd never had, the one who scolded her for acting out but still slipped her bits of chocolate and bandaged her wounds. He quite literally bandaged her scar every time it flared to life again.

Ever so slowly, his dark eyes crinkled and he squeezed slowly back. In a very un-Sev-like move, he squatted in front of her and looked her in the eye.

"What I am going to tell you will be scary. You must be brave." His tone tolerated no questions, so Hermione bobbed her head and slipped her hand from his. She returned to the couch, this time sitting between her mum and dad. It seemed she might need them to lean on after all.

After a brief glance to her parents, who both looked on soberly, Sev unfolded himself and stood once more, joints popping.

He cleared his throat and began.

"Hermione has attended Hogwarts once before. But," he paused, eyes growing distant for a moment, "she has not attended Hogwarts in this timeline."

Stunned silence met his declaration, so Severus continued. "In a different timeline, Hermione attended Hogwarts, where she befriended a boy by the name of Harry Potter."

"Wait—Harry Potter? I've heard that name before," her father interjected.

Severus nodded. "I have no doubt that you did in 1981. On that day, Harry Potter defeated the dark wizard Voldemort. All of the wizarding world celebrated it, and it inevitably spilled into the Muggle world."

"All the fireworks—" Hermione's mother gasped. "You mentioned it when you came home from the practice…I thought you were mad! You were going on about shooting stars in the middle of a day and asking about a celebrity by that name."

"The boy—Harry—was a celebrity. He was merely a year and some months old, but Voldemort tried to kill his parents. No one knows how they survived, but they did," Sev said. He turned to address Hermione again. "In that timeline, you were best friends. You did everything together and befriended another of your classmates, Ronald Weasley."

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the odd name.

Severus seemed to agree. "The boys were not my favorite, and I was no fan of yours then, either." He ignored her outright glare of anger. "However, the dark wizard rose again, bent on destroying the one thing that had stopped him in his quest for power: Harry Potter. Though he hated Harry, he hated Muggles and anyone that opposed him, too. He wanted to rule the world. And you tried to help Harry stop him."

Hermione's heart seemed to stop. She was only eleven! She couldn't stop a powerful wizard, so she told Sev as much. "That's crazy! I would never—"

"You were sorted into Gryffindor, the house known for its unending bravery at Hogwarts. I assure you, you threw yourself into harm's way more than once." He grimaced apologetically at her parents.

Hermione plowed on, "But that doesn't explain why I'm here. If this other timeline happened, why are you here now and what happened?"

Severus looked away, but she caught the pained look in his eyes before he stared once more into the fireplace. "You are here because, in the other timeline, you were captured by one of Voldemort's most fanatical followers, Bellatrix Lestrange, and you were tortured in the home of one of your classmates while he and his mother watched. Somehow, during the torture, you altered time and created a warp. Technically, the other timeline does exist, but this one is an offshoot of it."

The dull beats of Hermione's heart thudded in her ears. "What does that mean?"

Severus finally looked back at her. "What this means is that, when you created this warp, you changed the future. Your magic was so strong that you altered the future at your birth. Everything, from your birth forward, has been changed."

Hermione was at a loss for words. She didn't know how to process everything she had been told. Somehow, it wasn't even important that everything she knew about her life had changed. It didn't matter that she didn't know what a Muggle was. What mattered was that she had somehow altered everything about the life she was supposed to have. While life had always been an unforeseeable mystery before, she felt that chasm even deeper now.

If Sev was right, she'd already lived part of her life before. She had friends, and she'd gone to school. She fought bad guys—even her terror of what he had told her couldn't help feeling impressed by that. But now, Sev seemed to be telling her that the unknown was even more unknown.

As her mind whirred through all the possibilities, Hugh spoke to Severus. "If the future is changed, and Hermione has no memory of what happened, how do you know so much?"

Severus sighed. "That is a complicated question. The wizard who I spoke with earlier would be able to provide a more satisfactory answer, but, to be plain, Professor Dumbledore is a very powerful wizard. He found the warp and was able to communicate with himself in this timeline. It wasn't easy, and he wasn't able to give all the information he knew, but what he's given us has saved countless lives. He informed me of the situation and the likelihood that Hermione would bear the repercussions of the magic she wielded the day that she created the warp that changed the timeline. He sent me to help her."

Hermione looked at Severus for a long moment, then peeled back her sleeve to peer at the ugly scar on her arm. "You mean  _this_  was because of that Bellatrix woman? The one who tortured me?"

Severus nodded grimly. "I'm afraid it is. It appeared, as Dumbledore thought it would, on the day on which Voldemort tried to kill Harry Potter's parents. In this timeline, he failed to do so. You set in motion a new timeline, but he sealed it when he failed to kill the Potters. In order to protect you in this timeline, we've concealed you. We do not know whether Voldemort knows about the changes in the timeline."

The Grangers all looked at one another, unsure what to say. The revelation was far-fetched, but they couldn't argue with it. Not when they had born witness to the mysterious scar appearing on their daughter's arm. Not when she had accidentally destroyed the mirror in the room.

Their daughter was not a typical child, and it seemed that she bore far more significance to the world than any of them realised.

Her mother spoke into the silence of the sunny living room. "So, what do we do?"

Severus looked at each Granger in turn. "We take this information and this opportunity and fight."

Both the Grangers stiffened their backs at this and prepared to argue, but Severus held up a hand to stop them. "I don't intend to throw Hermione to the wolves—figuratively or literally. She will go to Hogwarts, and she will learn magic. She'll learn to hone her skills. She'll learn what it means to be a witch. And I will help her. I'll protect her life with my own."

Hugh and Jean looked at one another, then at Hermione. Hermione's heart, still roaring in her ears, skipped a beat at the tears in her parents' eyes. Her father cleared his throat and picked up her small hand, his thumb brushing over the knuckles like it always did. "Honey, it's up to you. We trust Sev. It's scary, but it sounds like you're pretty important to save wizards and—Mukkins?" He cleared his throat after the unfamiliar word. "We love you no matter what."

Hermione took a deep breath. She tried to think over the rushing in her ears, but she knew that she couldn't say no. Something in the back of her mind was whispering to her.  _This is your purpose. This is how you prove to everyone that you are more than the scar on your arm._  So she opened her eyes and squeezed her dad's hand, took her mother's hand in her open right hand, looked Sev in those always-serious eyes, and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I won't be able to post a chapter next weekend, as I'll be in Michigan house hunting with my fiance. I'll try to update as soon as I can after that!


	4. Medius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Peers bashfully around a corner* Hello, dear readers! Happy Easter if you celebrate! Happy Sunday if you don't! For this chapter, Nantai deserves all of the love. Seriously, shower her with as much love, good vibes, general wonderfulness as you can. She beta'd/alpha'd this chapter for me and is an absolute joy to work with. She's my saving grace with this update, and I don't think I can articulate how truly grateful I am for her help.
> 
> Last update, imasurvivor21 asked what the chapter titles mean, and I'm glad you asked! I'm studying Latin in one of my graduate classes, so they're all Latin words that relate to the chapter and the events within each one. If all goes according to plan with the fic, they'll play a role in later chapters.
> 
> Shoutout to percabethbooklion, TimeyWimeyMagicWagic, JuliSt, annnemaaageth, Wildflower Weasley, imasurvivor21, Virginie Cires, Kyonomiko, In Dreams, Nantai, ClumsyKnowItAll, and the Guest for your kind words and well wishes. I appreciate your thoughts and condolences.

No music this time! I listened to the rain on my balcony for this chapter.

* * *

 

 **Medius** ● **3**

The next few weeks flew by for Hermione. Looking back, she couldn’t tell what happened that made her agree to Sev’s proposal so readily. Honestly, it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.

She  _couldn’t_ be a witch, and she definitely wasn’t responsible for a whole different timeline.

However, she had to admit that some of what he had told her parents had made sense. It explained why she could move things if she concentrated on them really hard. It also explained what had happened with the mirror. So, while she could believe that she just might be a witch, she had a hard time wrapping her mind around the idea that she had somehow created a whole new timeline.

She’d pestered Sev about it at every opportunity, but the man always told her that she knew as much as he did. If she wanted to learn more, she’d have to talk to Dumbledore about it, and it was likely that even he didn’t understand how she’d done it. She always left the conversation more frustrated than she had entered it.

That was how, two days before she was due to leave for her new life at Hogwarts, she found herself once more frowning sulkily on the settee. She’d asked Sev again to explain the whole thing to her, and he had just glared at her until she was quiet.

These moments had infuriated her, but she’d also had a revelation: the sneer she had thought she’d learned from her mother and father was an identical copy of Sev’s. Though she was still irritated with the man, meeting his sneer of annoyance with an identical one of her own made it a little more bearable. Especially when she saw the reluctant amusement light up his black eyes.

She toyed with a frayed bit of the couch while she waited for him to finish speaking to her parents. He was taking her to Di-uh-gone Alley—she liked to draw the name out just to annoy him—to buy her supplies for school, but he had to have her parents go get money from the bank that they could exchange for the magical money that she would use there.

Sev already knew all about how to exchange the money and how much she’d need. After his revelation with the timelines, he’d spent more time with her. Presumably to prepare her for her magical life, but she also strongly suspected that he was avoiding going back to the school. He never sounded happy when he talked about it.

She’d also realised that Sev grew up like she did, in a Muggle house. He explained to her that while she was a Muggle-born—the daughter of non-magical parents—he was a half-blood, as his mother was a witch and his father was a Muggle. She wasn’t sure if that’s why she felt so safe with him, but she wasn’t going to question it. He had promised her parents he would look out for her, so she trusted him.

Her dad trusted him, too, which was even more telling of how accepted Sev was in her family.

A sharp snap in front of her face brought Hermione back to attention. Sev stood in front of her staring down his imperious nose at her, one eyebrow cocked. Her face flushed a little, and she hopped to her feet.

He cleared his throat. “If you’re ready?” Embarrassed at her inattentiveness, she met his eyes then crossed the room to hug both her parents.

After the necessary pleas to be safe and listen to Sev, both Jean and Hugh hugged her, trying not to hold on too tight or too long and let their nerves betray them. Hermione swallowed and walked out the door.

Sev was waiting at the end of the path in his new normal attire. Now that there were no more secrets about who he truly was, he seemed to exist in the heavy black robes and cravat, both meticulously groomed and ironed. When she reached his side, he motioned for her to follow him.

Neither of them spoke as they walked down the footpath of the neighborhood that she lived in with her family. Located in northwest London, it was far enough removed from the bustle of the city that she felt safe in their little cottage. However, it was close enough to Charing Cross that her father had no trouble navigating them there with a car.

When Hermione asked where Sev’s car was, however, he pulled her into a dim ally behind the chemist near her house.

After checking to ensure there was no one around to overhear, Sev spoke to her. “We will not be going by car. We’ll apparate.”

“Apparate?” Her brown eyes sparked in curiosity.

Her question earned her one of Sev’s rare half-smiles. “Magic,” he said. He looked serious once more. “Where we’re going, you must be careful. There are people there who might try to take advantage of your wonder at the new world. It will be obvious to them that you are a Muggle-born. You must not let your guard down around strangers.”

Hermione gazed back at him soberly, trying to look older than her nearly-twelve years. Sev was always serious, but his eyes held a deadly calm in them that raised goosebumps on her arms.

“While we’re there, you must not call me Sev. In the wizarding world, I am Professor Snape to you. If you wish to remain safe, you’ll do well to remember that.” He stared back at her.

She swallowed. It would be hard to remember that; she’d never known him as anything other than Sev, but she agreed all the same. If he was telling her the truth, she had changed a lot when other-her—because she couldn’t think of the other timeline as herself—had somehow changed reality. He didn’t know how to protect her here.

He took her silence as understanding and straightened once more. With a quick glance around the alley, he took her hand. “Hold tight,” was the last thing she heard before a pop echoed through the alleyway and a hook in her gut seemed to wrench her backward.

* * *

 

Hermione’s feet reconnected to the ground with a  _slap_. She promptly bent at the waist and was sick on the cracked pavement in front of her. Severus sighed.

“Apparition does tend to make those who are unaccustomed with it nauseous,” he reached into his robes and pulled out a long, tapered wand that Hermione had only seen sparingly. With a careless wave, the puddle of vomit vanished, and he stepped up to the brick wall in front of them.

After managing to calm her roiling stomach, Hermione took in her surroundings. They were standing on the back patio of what appeared to be a pub. She could hear the patrons inside muttering to one another, but none were loud enough for her to make out. She could hear the traffic of London on the streets, but it sounded as though they weren’t near a major road.

Hermione thought the whole experience seemed rather seedy, but she didn’t dare say anything to Sev, who had marched up to the brick wall, wand out, and began tapping away at the bricks. He stepped back a moment later, having tapped an intricate pattern on the wall.

Nothing happened.

Until something did. Slowly, the wall in front of them peeled backward, seeming to melt into itself on the sides. There, where a wall had been just moments before, was a cobblestone alley lined with teetering shops. Both the alley and shops were bustling with people, and bright voices filled the cloudy afternoon with cheer.

Hermione moved to bound into the wondrous alley when Sev’s hand closed over her shoulder. It wasn’t painful, but it was enough to grab her attention.

“Should anyone ask, you’re a half-blood. Your father is from the states, and your mother is British. You lived without magic before you got your Hogwarts letter.”

Puzzled, Hermione looked up at him. However, her rapidly-moving mind caught his line of thinking. “You don’t want anyone to know I’m a Muggle-born. But Sev—”

“Professor Snape,” he cut off and turned back to march into the alley, black robes billowing behind him. Hermione was helpless but to follow.

It was difficult to keep her awe in check as the alley assaulted her senses. Sev was right; there was magic everywhere. Shop windows were crowded with children admiring figurines that moved of their own accord and others munched on candy that made steam come out of their ears. Even the buildings themselves seemed filled with magic, keeping themselves upright when they ought to have toppled onto the cobblestones. She shoved her amazement deep inside and tried to maintain a passive expression that Sev, had he been paying attention, would have been proud of.

She’d always been attentive and imitative of the beak-nosed man, and Hermione supposed that was finally paying off.

Though he hadn’t told her otherwise, she knew that she would have to feign understanding of everything that she witnessed around her today. If she was a half-blood, even if she hadn’t seen magic at home, she assumed that she would have been told about magic at some point in time—parents of half-bloods couldn’t truly leave their children without any knowledge of the world which half of their immediate family came from, right?

Her internal questioning was interrupted when Sev halted in the middle of the sidewalk, and she ran into him. She felt rather than heard the deep sigh he exhaled as he turned around to peer down his long nose at her. She swallowed hard. Sev hated to be bumped into.

“The list,” he prompted, and Hermione scrambled to find the letter in the overstuffed backpack she had brought with her. Sev’s scowl deepened the ever-present notch in his forehead from the perpetually-slashed eyebrows, and Hermione knew she only had a matter of seconds to find the letter before Sev unleashed one of his trademarks sneers on her.

She much preferred to be one dealing the sneers—or, at the very least, giggling silently at those who earned one from Sev. Being the recipient made her cringe harder than she’d ever admit.

Just as she was losing hope of ever finding the blasted letter, Sev rolled his eyes and withdrew his wand. Waving it, the letter surged out of the depths of her bag and into his hand. Appropriately chagrined, she took the proffered parchment and opened it to the supply list.

“Wand, robes, parchment, cauldron. Where do I get all this, S—Professor Snape?” The name sounded clunky to her ears, but the incline of his head was enough to tell her that he was pleased she caught herself in time.

Sev once more turned to the streets in front of them, stowing his wand back in the depths of his robe. Hermione would have to ask him where he kept it. She wondered if he had a holster for it, like the cowboys in the cheesy American movies her dad liked. “First, Gringotts. You need money.”

Hermione hurried along behind the man, glancing side to side periodically, trying to see as much as she could without being too obvious. Near an ice cream shop, a red-haired woman juggling a truly frightening stack of used books scolded a tall, gangly red-haired boy she could only assume was the woman’s son for losing a rat “for the fifth time this week!” Hermione shuddered. Who would want a rat for a pet?

On the other side of the street was a building with a rickety wooden sign hanging above it.  _Flourish and Blotts_ was written across it in beautiful script. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought it might be a bookstore. If it was, she hoped Sev wouldn’t mind stopping in for a bit longer than just picking up her school books. She had a lot of catching up to do.

Her words caught in her throat at the building in front of her.

The cobblestones gave way to large white marble steps under her feet. Hermione sucked in a breath as she craned her neck back to take in what had to be Gringotts. She nearly stumbled climbing the steep step into the building, but she was too mesmerized to peel her attention away from the architecture. She slowed her walk to a crawl so she wouldn’t miss the long, ornate windows decorating the front.

The inside was no less opulent. Hermione found herself once more swallowing her gasps of awe at the sparkling chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. However, it was the creatures behind the desks pounding stamps into pile after pile of paperwork that intrigued her the most.

They were sitting on tall stools, and their hands bore the ink stains of several hours spent working through manuscripts. They chattered to one another in a language that Hermione could not discern but which sounded like a strange mix of grunts and the scratches like her father’s old record player made when it hit an uneven spot in the grooves. She made eye contact with one of them, a white-haired, cranky being whose lips pulled back tightly. Hermione quickly looked away.

Sev, who hadn’t noticed her lollygagging, approached the counter where another of the strange creatures lurked. His fingers were curled around a quill and he scratched away at the parchment in front of him with the slow nonchalance of someone who had was reassured of the permanence of their employment. Upon reaching him, Sev cleared his throat.

 Looking over his spectacles, the little creature drawled, “Yes?” He reminded Hermione of one of the gnomes her grandmother kept in the shabby patch of flowers in her garden: squat and unpleasant.

“I need to exchange Muggle money for wizarding coins,” Severus plopped the banknotes down on the countertop. “As this will be more than enough to purchase Hogwarts supplies, we will also open a vault under the name Hermione Jean Granger.”

Hermione gaped at the man. Surely her parents hadn’t told him to open a vault for her? She opened her mouth to protest, but his piercing glare silenced her before she could get a word in edgewise.

“Ms Granger will have one of the newer vaults. I expect it to be properly warded,” Severus stared down his long nose at the creature, who hurriedly swept the British notes off the counter and disappeared below the desk. Curious where the small creature went, Hermione craned her neck over the counter. Just seconds later, however, the creature appeared beside her, barely reaching her knee. Her eyes swept over the small creature, taking in his shabby robe and the tufts of hair protruding from his ears.

She wasn’t sure what she had expected in a magical world, but she’d somehow failed to realize that she might encounter creatures she’d never knew existed before. She itched to get to the bookstore Sev had promised they’d go to. She was sure there’d be a book that would tell her all about the creatures she would encounter.

In her fascination with the being in front of her, Hermione stopped paying attention to her surroundings, though, if she was honest, she never paid them much mind anyway. As the desk manager hustled away to bring her what Hermione presumed would be a stack of strange wizarding currency, she whirled to Sev to question him. However, as she spun to question the man, she overestimated her balance and found herself teetering over.

Hermione braced herself for a fall that did not come. Instead, she stared up into the face of a man whose rather pinched expression matched Sev’s. She was sweating where his hand kept her upright, her nerves betraying her at the cool grey eyes staring down at her. She hastened to right herself as Sev stepped forward.

“Ah, Lucius. You’ve finally deigned to leave your schmoozing at the Ministry?” Sev’s eyes swept over Hermione, and her blush deepened.

“Not everyone can have a cushy day job at Hogwarts, Severus.” The man before her—Lucius, Sev had called him—glanced at her. “It seems as though McGonagall has been shirking her duties. Are you dragging about the Muggleborns to get school supplies?”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest. She recognized the malice gleaming in the man’s eyes; it was the same contempt she’d been the recipient of from her classmates in primary school. Her retort, that Muggleborns  _certainly_ weren’t as bad as he made the word sound, froze on her lips when she remembered Sev’s warning.  _In this world, I am half-blood._

Hermione hadn’t liked the idea of lying about who she was, but she would do anything to wipe the contempt from the man’s eyes.

“Half-blood,” she corrected, staring him down. A small chuckle to his left drew Hermione’s attention, and she started.

Standing before her was what she could only describe as a younger, carbon copy of the man challenging her. He stood silently, save for his chuckle, beside who was undeniably his father. Blonde hair was slicked backward in an unflattering helmet, but his sharp features showcased his father’s eyes. He wasn’t the prettiest boy Hermione had ever seen, but he certainly caught her attention. His silent approval of her correction bolstered her courage and her stomach flip-flopped a bit at his scrutiny. Embarrassed though emboldened by his gaze, she returned her stare to his father.

One eyebrow crooked upward, and a begrudging lilt lifted Lucius’ lip. “Not one to mince words, is she?” Lucius commented, just as the desk clerk returned to the counter bearing a clanking drawstring bag. He passed both the bag and a key to Severus. Sev took them without a word and passed them to Hermione.

“She learned from the best,” Sev admitted, and Hermione felt a flicker of pride that she’d seemed to have impressed both men with her response.

Lucius nodded to the boy next to him. “Well, since it seems as though you’ve captured Severus’ tutorship, you will be spending quite a lot of time with my son. Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune and Severus’ godson. He, too, will be attending Hogwarts this year.”

Draco stepped forward, extending his hand to Hermione as he studied her. She swallowed and met his eyes. This was a test, she knew. She had next to no knowledge about the wizarding world, but Sev’s interaction with the clerk of Gringotts seemed to indicate that there was a hierarchy to this world.

Draco Malfoy and his father were undeniably at the top.

Stepping forward, Hermione steeled her spine and extended her hand to meet his. Though he showed no hint of nerves, the boy’s hand was also slightly clammy.

“Hermione Granger, half-blood. Pleasure.” She firmly shook his hand once and was suddenly grateful that her father had made her learn how to shake hands. Hugh had always insisted that women needed to know how to shake a hand properly when a curtsy wouldn’t do. For once, she was glad of her father’s eccentrics.

As Hermione resumed her stance at Sev’s side, Lucius turned and spoke to the creature at the desk. She wasn’t sure why, but she found herself once more studying the boy in front of her. He was lean, angular enough that she feared he’d cut her should she get close enough. His cheekbones appeared as though they would slice through his cheeks, but fat still clung to his arms. This was a boy her mother would tell her had shot up like a bean pole: still growing slow enough to be awkward in some places but growing into himself. It was fascinating to observe since she hadn’t been around any boys her age long enough to appreciate the difference between herself and them.

She had been a quick grower, though, so she was slightly taller than the boy before her. He had a small scar above his right eyebrow, only a shade lighter than his skin tone; had she been merely glancing at him, she wouldn’t have noticed. He also hadn’t quite managed to get all of his hair slicked back. Fine blond hairs haloed around his face, enough that Hermione thought they had to be tickling his forehead.

She wasn’t sure why, but Hermione was intrigued. For the first time since she had left her primary school, she hoped to befriend the boy in front of her.

When Lucius was done demanding his money be brought from his vault, Sev interrupted Hermione’s musings.

“Lucius, we’re off the Flourish and Blotts. I have potions to brew, and Hermione still needs supplies,” Sev drawled.

“Ah, it is amusing to see you play errand boy, Severus,” Lucius motioned his son forward. “Say goodbye, Draco. I’m sure you and Hermione will see each other soon enough, and you can acquaint Hermione to Hogwarts.”

Following his father’s prompting, Draco murmured a polite goodbye that Hermione returned.

As they left the wizarding bank, Hermione tried to quiet the thoughts in her mind. She needed to figure out more about the wizarding world, and she knew her best bet, after Sev, would be a book. She could think about befriending the boy with the grey eyes later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for my extended absence. My fiance got an interview at his dream job, so our vacation was a little more extended than we planned. We also found a lovely little two bedroom house that is pet friendly, so cheers for good luck! Thank you all for your well wishes :) I truly appreciate them all.


	5. Audāx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello, loves! First, I'd like to apologize for my extended absence. I've been helping my fiance pack up everything and move, plus I started a new job. Life is crazy! I'm hoping to start posting more often again, but I can't make any promises and don't want to disappoint you all. Please be patient with me!
> 
> This chapter was a pain to get out, so I'd love your feedback on what you liked/didn't like/want to see more of. Like I said at the beginning, this is going to be rather long, so I hope the slow pacing doesn't drive you away! Also, this chapter has not been edited beyond my own edits. I'm currently searching for an alpha and a beta, so please send anyone who might be interested my way, especially if they're a Brit-picker! I'd sincerely appreciate the help. Since I'm the only one that's gone over it, I also appreciate anyone pointing out any errors they might see. As I'm sure you'll notice, some of these lines do come from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I do not own any of this content and am just borrowing it from J.K.R. I am in no way profiting from this work of derivative fiction.
> 
> Finally, shout out to bright places, Grovek26, imasurvivor21, Virginie Cires, JuliSt., sunshine.katz, Nantai, Coralyne, Flic, thebean394, and the guest for your reviews on the last chapter. Seeing others get excited about the story fuels my desire to write more. I'm so glad to share this with you all! Sending each and every one of you love.

This chapter was written along to the HP soundtrack for inspiration.

 

* * *

 

 

Audāx ● 4

The rest of Hermione’s visit to Diagon Alley was rather uneventful. She was poked and prodded in Madam Malkin’s when she was fit for robes, but she managed to convince Sev to let her get a beautiful burgundy set of dress robes for any special occasions they might have during the term. He had very nearly turned her down, but she pouted up at him with her big brown eyes, and he’d wavered. He’d heaved a great, gusting sigh and muttered under his breath, “At this rate, you’ll end up in Slytherin before the hat even touches your head.”

She’d looked up at him, curious. “Slytherin?”

Sev had given her a quelling look, not too subtly reminding her that she was supposed to already know these things. She had barely covered up her cringe and nodded.

Following her robe adventure, Sev took pity on the obviously-tired child and pulled her into Florean Fortescue’s Ice-Cream Parlor, where she ordered a double-scoop of raspberry and chocolate ice cream. Sev directed her to a table in the back of the establishment and began to answer her previous question.

“Slytherin is one of the four houses of Hogwarts, created by Salazar Slytherin,” Severus began. Hermione didn’t look up from her ice cream, but she knew that Sev would continue. He didn’t like to be interrupted.

“The other four houses are Hufflepuff, whose founder was Helena Hufflepuff; Ravenclaw, founded by Rowena Ravenclaw; and Gryffindor, founded by Godric Gryffindor. Together, the four house founders founded Hogwarts to teach the magical children of Britain and Ireland,” Sev paused and raised his eyebrows at Hermione, who, despite not interrupting him, had been practically vibrating with questions.

Hermione’s first question rushed out of her. “So, Hogwarts only takes children from Britain and Ireland? Where does everyone else go?”

Sev barely cracked a smile. “There are other wizarding schools: Beauxbatons in France, Durmstrang somewhere in Norway or Sweden, and Castelobruxo in Brazil are just a few of them. They each accept witches and wizards from specified areas.”

Hermione nodded, waiting for the man to go on.

“Each Hogwarts house has a different value, and that’s usually how students are sorted. Slytherin prizes ambition above all, though Slytherins also value leadership, cunning, determination, and resourcefulness.”

Hermione stifled a laugh. “And you think I would make a good Slytherin?”

Sev smirked. “Well, since I’ve known you since you were a small child, I should say it’s likely. I am, after all, head of Slytherin House.”

Hermione bowed her head, lost in thought. She was ambitious, she supposed. She didn’t much like the idea of being cunning, as she’d always thought it was a trait that seemed a little manipulative. There were things she wanted, but she thought it best to achieve them through honest means instead of tricking others out of it. She’d never had a chance to lead, but she was rather determined and resourceful. Hermione untangled her brows and looked up at Severus. “And the other houses?”

Sev sighed. “The other houses value different traits. I’ve already told you about Gryffindor since you were sorted there previously.” The disdain dripped from his voice, though Hermione couldn’t help but note the light in his eyes as he described the house. “Courage, daring, and nerve are the other traits of Gryffindors. I’ve heard they’re supposed to be chivalrous, but I’ve yet to witness it.”

Hermione giggled.

“Ravenclaws are our resident geniuses. They value intelligence, wit, creativity, and cleverness. You’re more likely to find them with their nose in a book or in a heated debate over one topic or another than anything else. Hufflepuff is known for loyalty, patience, hard work, and tolerance. Helga Hufflepuff famously said she’d take anyone the other houses didn’t, so it’s the most diverse of the houses.” Sev stopped to take a sip of water from the glass in front of him.

Of the houses, Hermione wasn’t quite sure where she belonged. They each had their appeal, but she found she couldn’t find one she preferred more than the other on description alone. She rather hoped wherever she was placed, she would make friends. That would make the transition to the wizarding school much easier, but she supposed that having Sev there would be at least be nice even if she made no other friends.

Hermione opened her mouth to ask Sev another question, but the ringing of the bell other the door of Fortescue’s interrupted her, and, short moments later, so did a woman’s voice ringing across the shop. “Severus Snape!”

Sev looked up, and his reserved demeanor cracked just a bit. A real smile, one of the few Hermione had ever seen on the man’s face, spread his lips and transformed his usually dour expression with warmth. Crow’s feet extended from the corners of his eyes, and he slid his chair back as he rose to his feet.

“Lily Evans, as I live and breathe,” Sev drawled. Hermione followed his gaze over her shoulder and gaped at the whirlwind of red hair and black robes that swiftly approached them and wrapped Sev in a hug.

If Hermione had been shocked by the display of affection, she nearly dropped to the floor when the woman pulled back and kissed Sev on the cheek. She gripped his forearms and beamed up at him, her head barely reaching Sev’s shoulders. “It’s Potter now, you prat. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! How have you been? What have you been up to?” she rambled off questions so quickly that she could barely catch her breath. “Wait—don’t answer that. I’ll be right back.”

Lily turned and rushed to the door. “James will be so excited to see you!”

The door dinged again, and the little witch was gone, silence once more in her place. Hermione looked up at Sev, her mouth agape as she tried to process the scene in front of her.

“She’s an old friend,” was the only explanation Sev gave, and the door dinged once more, the red-haired whirlwind dragging another tall man behind her.

“See, he’s here!” Lily rolled her eyes at Sev conspiratorially. “James didn’t believe me. Said I was barmy. So, instead of walking in here like a civilized individual, I had to drag him in, nearly by the broomstick.” She waggled her eyebrows, and Hermione felt herself blush to the roots of her hair.

Whoever this woman was, she certainly left nothing to the imagination.

“Oi, woman,” the other wizard spoke up, “you’ll do no such thing with my broomstick.”

Sev laughed and held his hand out. His eyes were only slightly apprehensive, but Hermione would never have noticed if she hadn’t known him for so long. “James. It’s good to see you.”

The other wizard rolled his eyes and pulled Sev into a very reluctant hug. “Sev, how many times have I told you that family hugs?”

Family?! Hermione’s mind whirred. She knew that Sev had to have some kind of family somewhere, but she’d never imagined a family like this. She’d always imagined them somewhat like him—reserved, hard to please, and very stoic. Instead, these two people were some of the most boisterous people she’d ever seen.

Sev finally extracted himself from the wizard and straightened his robes. “Duly noted,” he breathed, though he mumbled under his breath, “for the fiftieth time.”

James had heard him, but the witch beside him had caught sight of Hermione and raised a brow at Severus. “Who’s the tagalong?”

Sev turned and motioned Hermione forward. When she was next to him, he introduced her. “Lily, James, this is Hermione Granger. She’s a half-blood and will be attending Hogwarts as a first year. I’ve been tasked with seeing her through her school supply shopping.”

Lily tittered. “Severus, you’re helping the first years now? That’s adorable!” Her grin got even wider as she met Hermione’s eyes. “Hello, Hermione. It’s nice to meet you. Are you excited for Hogwarts?”

Hermione nodded and reached a hand out to first Lily and then James. After shaking both their hands, Hermione smiled up at them. “I’m excited to learn magic. My father doesn’t practice much anymore, for my mum’s sake.”

James nodded. “There’s a lot of that these days, what with the Statute of Secrecy and all.” He turned to Severus. “You know, Harry will be here shortly! He was meeting Draco at the Quidditch shop to admire the new Nimbus model. We ought to introduce them, so Hermione knows someone at Hogwarts.”

“Indeed. We ran into Lucius and Draco earlier, so she’s already met two-thirds of the Malfoys,” Severus replied, though he carefully kept his eyes trained between the other two adults.

“Ah, so Lucius finally decided to show his selfish arse, did he?” Lily’s frosty green eyes and Sev’s inability to meet them told Hermione all she needed to know about the relationship between Lily and Mr. Malfoy. Whatever had caused that look hadn’t been good. Reason told Hermione that she ought to trust the shrewd witch.

Her intellect hadn’t yet led her astray, so she filed her suspicion of the eldest Malfoy away to examine further later.

James groaned and brought a hand up to rub at his temple, right beside the round spectacles that perched on his nose. “Now you’ve done it, Sev. She’s going to go on about this for the rest of the day.”

“I will not! I just despise the way that man treats his family. They’re only good enough for him when he can conveniently weasel something out of them,” Lily grumbled. “I think the only one he truly cares about is Draco. I’m glad Cissy divorced the git.”

Sev opened his mouth to reply to Lily, but a flash of black flew past the storefront, followed shortly by a shock of platinum blond. A crash resounded in the street, and shop owners could be heard yelling. With a resigned glance between the two of them, Lily and James charged to the door of the shop, and Severus motioned for Hermione to follow.

As they neared the doorway, Hermione heard Lily shriek, “Harry James Potter, what in the name of Morgana do you think you’re doing?!”

The door opened upon chaos. Dust swirled in the air, and witches and wizards around them all blinked in confusion at the two wizards being berated. James stood back from the commotion with his arms crossed, a proud smile lurking at the corners of his lips. Hermione desperately wanted to point out the dust that had settled in his hair, but she didn’t know the wizard well enough to do so. She was also more than a little transfixed by Lily Potter.

As Lily ranted and raved, the two wizards she scolded approached her slowly, leaving behind a mess of toppled dustbins and stunned onlookers. Lily barely took a breath between her rants, and the boys, Hermione thought, had the decency to look chagrined.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, running about Diagon Alley causing a ruckus, but I know that both of you were raised better than that. Especially you, Harry,” Lily ranted.

The boy with the black mop of hair messily strewn across his forehead opened his mouth and sputtered out, “Hey, Draco isn’t all bad!”

Draco rolled his eyes, nudging the other boy. He stepped forward, shoulders hunched, and said, “We’re sorry for the trouble, Mrs Potter. We were just having a little fun.”

Lily softened. “How many times have I told you that it’s Lily. That ‘Mrs Potter’ nonsense makes me feel old.” She looked back at James. “Care to say anything to your son and his friend?”

“I think you’ve got it just fine, love.” James shrugged.

“He gets it from you, anyway.” The witch turned back to the boys in front of her and sighed. “Well, I suppose now is as good of time as any to introduce you to a friend.”

The boys perked up at the mention of a friend and peered around the witch. Hermione gave a small wave, and she noticed just the tips of Draco’s ears pinken as he waved back at her.

“Draco, you’ve already met Hermione. Hermione, this is my son, Harry.”

The wiry wizard stepped forward, pushing his round spectacles up his nose as he did so. He awkwardly stuck a hand out in greeting and said, “I would say I’m not normally covered in dust and being yelled at by my Mum, but I’d be lying. I’m Harry.”

Hermione couldn’t help her grin at his statement. “Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you.”

Harry raised his brow at her. “So, Hogwarts, yeah? What house do you want to be in?”

Hermione chewed on her lip, unsure of how to answer, especially with all of the adults looking at her expectantly. How could she give them a satisfactory answer when she wasn’t yet sure herself?

Lily came to her rescue, though, with a roll of her eyes. “Just because you’ve known you were destined for Gryffindor from birth doesn’t mean she has to have it all figured out before she even sees the Hogwarts Express.” She quirked her lips up at Hermione’s relieved expression. “Whatever house she finds herself in, I’m sure Hermione will love her time at Hogwarts. And you’ll be nice to her, no matter what house she’s in.” The warning was evident in her tone.

Harry grimaced. “Sure, Mum. As long as she’s not in Slytherin, we’ll be great.”

Draco elbowed Harry again. “What’s wrong with Slytherin? That’s where I’ll be!” He beamed at Hermione, his eyes dancing with mirth, and Hermione couldn’t help her answering smile.

That was how, two days later, Hermione found herself sandwiched between the two boys on the Hogwarts Express, trying valiantly to ignore them as she read through Hogwarts: A History for the third time. Across from them sat a ginger-haired boy—Ronald Weasley, as he’d introduced himself—who was munching on a genuinely appalling looking sandwich and stared at Harry with the equivalent of hero worship. Apparently, the Potters were a big deal in the wizarding world, and Ron was reeling from his starstruck encounter with both the younger Potter boy and his parents, whom they’d left on Platform 9 ¾ with her parents. Draco and Harry were talking to each other over her head, and she’d very nearly left the car when it began to slow down. Everyone in the car had crowded the doors upon stopping, each wanting to be the first to see the school.

Hermione couldn’t remember much of the conversation during the boat ride, her nerves and excitement outweighing everything else as a gargantuan bearded man called Hagrid had led them to boats Hermione had read about in Hogwarts: A History that were enchanted to carry them across the Black Lake. She’d stared in awe at the turrets that stood against the star-flecked night sky, pinching herself lightly to ensure that it wasn’t a dream. She couldn’t believe that the castle would be her home for the majority of the next seven years.

Despite her excitement to learn magic, she couldn’t help but feel a creeping dread as Sev’s words came echoing back to her. She was here from another timeline. She was here because of a war with a dark wizard who wanted to exterminate those like her. At some point, she was sure she’d have to come face-to-face with the very man who likely wanted her dead.

Forcing back the shiver that ran down her spine, Hermione followed the other first years through the ornate front doors of the castle, trying to look unmoved by the wonder she felt at the castle. The clearing of a throat brought her attention to a rather severe woman standing just beyond the doors of what Hermione presumed was the Great Hall.

“Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, children. My name is Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and head of Gryffindor House.” The woman’s stern gaze brooked no room for interruption. Hermione had a feeling she would like this woman; it was hard to imagine her being anything but respected. ‘The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.”

As the woman spoke on, Hermione couldn’t help the strange sense of déjà vu that stole over her at the woman’s words. She couldn’t have heard the speech anywhere before—at least, not that she remembered. Sev’s words echoed in her mind: this timeline is an offshoot of the old one. Maybe she had heard this speech before. Before Hermione could dwell on her thoughts, she was being rushed forward in a swirl of black cloaks as the first years entered the Great Hall.

Draco and Harry, who had been standing behind her as McGonagall welcomed them, rushed past her, Ron trailing in their wake and trying valiantly to regain their attention. Hermione found herself once more in awe of her surroundings, and even Sev’s influence couldn’t keep the delight from stretching her mouth in a broad smile.

The hall was more than she’d ever dared to imagine. Candles floated in mid-air above four long tables laden with a myriad of dishes, all of which made Hermione’s stomach growl. The flickering light lent the hall a homey feel, much like she imagined her own home would feel one day. Though each table was the same, the students seated at each proudly displayed the colors of their houses on their robes. All of the students peered back at the new first years with looks of eager anticipation, no doubt wondering which of the fresh faces would soon bear their colors and be seated at their table.

Hermione’s gaze finally landed on the head table, where several adults were seated, and sought out Sev. His eyes met hers briefly, though he showed no indication of recognition. Hermione wasn’t surprised; though she couldn’t contain her wonder, Sev was a master at hiding what he was thinking.

Professor McGonagall emerged before them, drawing everyone’s attention once more as placed a stool in front of them. Upon the stool perched a pointed wizard’s hat, which Hermione peered down her nose at. What use could a dirty old hat have for sorting the first years?

Her question was answered when it opened its mouth, cleared its throat, and began to sing.

 

Oh you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

 

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

 

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

 

Hermione tuned out the rest of the hat’s song as it launched into a description of each of the houses. Her gaze once more returned to the long table behind the hat, resting on the bearded wizard she had seen only once before. Professor Dumbledore, Sev had called him. He seemed a kindly man, a twinkle in his eye as he bobbed his head along and waved his fingers as though he was conducting the Sorting Hat. Half-moon spectacles rested on the end of his long, pointed nose, and his snow-white beard disappeared into his lap behind the table.

She studied the man, curious if he was as powerful as Sev made him out to be. She knew Severus wasn’t a liar, but the man appeared more grandfatherly than powerful. As her father would say, he certainly was no Gandalf. But Hermione had learned long ago that people often weren’t what they appeared to be, and Sev had fostered that healthy skepticism. As though her thoughts had shouted his name, Dumbledore’s eyes snapped to hers, a wary curiosity lighting in them. Of its own accord, her hand raised and rubbed at the Mudblood scar through her robes, and she shuddered. A furrow appeared between the wizard’s brow, and Hermione quickly averted her gaze.

The hat fell silent once more, and the hall broke out into applause. In front of her, Ron whispered something about wrestling a troll and Draco and Harry snickered to each other. Trying to shake the sense of dread that had washed over her, Hermione stepped forward next to Draco. When his gaze met hers, she smiled uncertainly.

“Don’t worry about the hat, Hermione. Harry’s mum says that it just talks in your ear for a bit and then puts you in a house,” Draco murmured reassuringly. Her smile must have seemed more genuine that time because Draco turned forward to listen to McGonagall, who had appeared once more next to the hat, this time holding a scroll of parchment.

Draco leaned over again. “And don’t worry about what house you get. You’re stuck with us, Granger.” A mischievous glint in his eyes made Hermione chuckle softly.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," Professor McGonagall said, and the sorting commenced.

Hermione tried to keep up with each of the students who were sorted, but she quickly lost track. A girl named Hannah Abbott was placed in Hufflepuff; a truly unpleasant looking girl named Pansy Parkinson became the first new Slytherin, much to Draco’s displeasure. Ron went to Gryffindor, to no one’s surprise and raucous applause and cheers from his family. Hermione grinned as Ron wilted in relief, his blush bright enough it could have rivaled the candlelight.

The cheers throughout the hall came to an abrupt halt when Professor McGonagall called Harry’s name from the scroll. After sharing a cocky grin with Draco and Hermione, Harry swaggered to up to the stool and grinned at Professor McGonagall. Just like all the other students, he arranged himself on the stool, waiting for the Sorting Hat to be placed upon his head. As Professor McGonagall approached Harry, however, a dull pounding began to sound in Hermione’s ears, punctuated by a sharp ringing. Sweat broke out on her forehead as the dread she’d suppressed roared to life in the pits of her stomach and crowded up her throat. Though it couldn’t have been more than a moment, Hermione’s eyes snapped to Sev’s and tried to communicate her distress. A deep frown marred his face as he watched her, and he began to stand just as the Sorting Hat touched Harry’s head.

With a high-pitched yelp, Harry’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed backward off the stool. Horrified gasps echoed throughout the hall as Hermione leapt into action, shoving first years out of the way, Draco on her heels. She skidded to a halt beside Harry and Professor McGonagall, who began barking orders for a matron to be summoned immediately.

Dumbledore stood from the head table, ordering the students to their dormitories, though Hermione could not focus on what he was saying as she stared at Harry in shock.

Where moments before had been an unblemished forehead, an angry lightning-bolt shaped scar marred Harry’s skin from beneath the smoldering Sorting Hat.


	6. Operiō

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi, friends. So, uh, it's been a while, hasn't it? I apologize for the extended delay. It's been a year, and I got really discouraged with some feedback I received on this via pm. I understand it's not everyone's cup of tea; I understand Severus is out of character-lots of characters will be slightly out of character. Please remember that if you don't like this, you don't have to read this.
> 
> Shout out to Kyonomiko for inadvertently kicking my butt in gear to get this out. You rock!

Hermione paced up and down the corridor outside the hospital wing. She tried to calm the thundering of her heart, but it could not be silenced no matter how deeply she breathed or how desperately she wished for news.

Draco sat slumped against the wall, his pale face ashen and shocked. Neither of them had expected such a violent action to take place, but Hermione thought Draco was especially traumatised. He had grown up his whole life hearing how safe Hogwarts was, the safest place in all of wizarding Britain, and the one place that no one had to fear the Dark Lord or anyone hurting them since Voldemort and his followers feared no one more than Dumbledore. She imaged that he was probably doubting everything he had ever learned about the place at that very moment.

Heavy wooden doors burst open at the end of the hallway and a whirlwind of red hair barrelled toward them. The familiar face of James followed Lily, and Dumbledore and McGonagall followed closely in their wake. Hermione couldn't quite make out what Dumbledore's soothing voice was attempting to tell Lily, but she knew that the woman was having none of it as her pace did not slow at all. It was only when she was thrown backward by the ward at the door that her forward momentum stopped. She looked wildly about the corridor and her eyes landed on Hermione.

Hermione's guilt bubbled to the surface, and she found herself stumbling over a confession. "Oh, Mrs. Potter, I am so sorry! I don't know why, but I think this is my fault. There's something I haven't told anyone, and I think it might have been what hurt Harry. I just wish I ha—" her words were cut off as Lily pulled her into a tight hug and began to smooth her hand over Hermione's wild curls. Though she still felt that whatever had happened was her fault, she couldn't help but absorb the comfort the woman was offering her.

After a few moments of stunned silence from the onlookers, Lily released Hermione and looked between her and Draco. With a deep breath, she said, "Someone explain to me what the hell happened to my son."

Hermione gulped, but Draco took the lead, apparently understanding how to handle Lily when she was upset. "Mrs. Potter—er, Lily—we're not entirely sure what happened. One minute the sorting was putting us in our houses, and the next Harry placed the hat on his head and there was a loud bang."

Hermione didn't miss the look that Lily and James shared. "So no one knows how the Sorting Hat exploded on our only son's head?" James' voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent of wrath that strung the words together.

McGonagall stepped in. "Mr. and Mrs. Potter, let me assure you that we are doing everything in our power to track down whoever or whatever is responsible for the events of this evening. We want nothing more than to be sure that our students are as safe as possible at Hogwarts."

Hermione braced herself for the explosion of Lily Potter. "With all due respect, Minerva, I believe that you are doing everything in your power to help. You have been nothing but forthcoming. I am, however, unconvinced that you're doing anything to help since you're standing there eating lemon drops." Lilly had rounded on Dumbledore, who, true to Lily's statement, was unwrapping a lemon drop. He paused and blinked owlishly at her from behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Ah, young Ms. Evans. I understand your frustration. However, I think that you'll see that everything is quite all right with young Mr. Potter if you would like to check in on him." The old wizard waved his arm at the warded doorway and the wooden doors creaked inward.

Though she glared back at Dumbledore, leaving very little doubt that the two would continue this conversation later, Lily wasted no time in bolting through the doorway.

Hermione, however, stood back and watched the procession of wizards into the room. She couldn't place why, but she suddenly felt wearier than she had the entire day. She didn't like the nearly careless way that Dumbledore reacted to the attack on Harry.

She stood just inside the door, watching Lily check over a very sore Harry, who complained good-naturedly about his mother's fussing. Dumbledore stood to the side and watched the interaction with a calculating gleam in his eyes, almost as if he was making note of their reactions for future incidents.

The fluttering of cloaks behind her drew both her and Dumbledore's attention but she didn't miss the way his shrewd eyes snapped to hers and seemed to clear as quickly as they had clouded, replaced once more with the generally good-natured gleam that had been present before the incident. The soft clearing of a throat next to her brought her attention upward.

"How are they taking it?" Sev inquired quietly. He watched the couple closely.

Hermione grimaced. "Lily is furious, as she ought to be. I think James is too. I don't think they trust Dumbledore." She cut her eyes to the elder wizard, who had sidled up next to the distraught parents and placed a hand on James' shoulder in what appeared to be reassurance. Hermione didn't miss the way the man's shoulders tightened. "Lily said something about him not paying attention. Is there—"

Sev's eyes pierced hers sharply and she trailed off. Whatever she had been about to ask, she knew that Sev wanted her to stop. With a slow incline of her head, she let him know that she understood, but she'd ask again later. Something wasn't adding up, and she needed to know how to proceed.

"I know that you don't think it's a good idea, but I'm going to tell them," she said to him. Sev looked at her from the corner of his eye. She continued when he didn't immediately respond. "I don't know how to explain it, but it feels like I need to tell them. It's what my mom calls the itch; when you know you need to do something, but you don't know why. I have to tell them. It's the only way they'll trust me." She swallowed. "Right now, I'm the newest outsider that's gotten close to them. I'm the logical suspect here."

Sev's serious face flattened into a grimace. "I understand. I don't like it, but I think you're right. You need to prove that you don't have anything to hide from them. It won't be easy, and they're likely not to trust you for a while."

Hermione sighed and hung her head. "I know. But if there's any chance of salvaging our friendship—"

"Then you have to be honest," Sev finished. "Wait until after Mr Potter has been released from the hospital wing. We can meet in my office, and I'll ward the doors. No one should know but the Potters and Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione nodded. She was nervous; sharing such an important secret that even she didn't know all the information about seemed a little too reactive to the situation, but since Sev didn't immediately disregard the idea, there had to be some merit to it.

As the room bustled about Harry, she watched on trying to think of the best way to tell the boys that she had lied. She hadn't ever had friends before, and she worried how they would react. She initially thought she'd be upset if someone kept such a large secret from her, but she thought of Sev and his reasons for not telling her about being a witch. She supposed there were some things that people did to protect those around them that didn't always make sense. She hoped Draco and Harry would see it the same way.

The clapping of Madam Pomphrey's hands gained her attention, and she turned her gaze on the mediwitch.

"The boy is being discharged as long as he is watched closely." She levelled a stern glare on each of the witches and wizards in the room, her imperious eyebrow quirked over her eye. "I expect that he'll take it easy and avoid any more pyrotechnics, yes, Mr Potter?"

Harry mumbled what Hermione thought was an agreement and slipped from the bed, careful not to move too quickly out of fear of the mediwitch's reaction. Sev stepped forward and motioned for everyone's attention.

"If you have the time, I believe it would be beneficial for everyone to reconvene in my office. I believe Ms. Granger has something she would like to share with you all." All the eyes in the room turned to bore into Hermione's head. She felt like a bug in one of her science projects, pinned down by the penetrating gazes, but she smiled wanly at the motley crew as they followed Sev out of the hospital wing.

As they all filed out into the hallway, the gentle clearing of a throat drew everyone's attention. Dumbledore stood behind the group, hands clasped together as he looked down his nose at Hermione. His stare was sharp for a moment before it cleared. If she hadn't been watching him closely, she thought she might have missed it. "Miss Granger, a word, if you please?"

She met Sev's eyes, who motioned the group forward. "Miss Granger, we'll be in my office. I trust you can make it without an escort?" Without waiting for a response, the man whirled away, leaving her alone in the hallway with Dumbledore.

She waited for a moment before she spoke. "Professor?"

"Miss Granger, I can't help but wonder whether all of this hullabaloo—" he waved his fingers "—is worth revealing the circumstances. It is, after all, a delicate situation that requires the utmost care."

Hermione met his gaze. She was silent for a moment, weighing her options. Everyone respected Dumbledore at Hogwarts; it was undeniable that he was a powerful wizard—even her little knowledge of magic didn't allow her to question that—but his demeanour didn't sit right with her. After surviving the first war, if it was as bad as Sev had explained to her, she thought he ought to be more alert, more proactive, when one of his students was attacked, especially in such a violent manner in front of the whole school.

Instead, he seemed more concerned with hiding this secret, her origin, than getting to the bottom of the situation.

She cleared her throat. "Professor, with all due respect, I don't have any other options. If I am to remain friends with Harry and Draco, I have to tell them." She didn't miss the way his eyes narrowed.

"Very well, Miss Granger. Do be careful." He turned and walked down the hallway as she watched, robes swishing about his ankles.

Hermione watched as he disappeared around the corner, his shrewd gaze pinning her once more before he rounded a corner and was out of sight. As she walked to Sev's office, she replayed the afternoon in her mind. She couldn't put her finger on what, exactly, was off about Dumbledore, but she didn't trust him.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Everyone was assembled in the room by the time she arrived. She'd known Sev for quite a long time, but she'd never seen him play the host. However, here he was, passing out cups and saucers as Lily heated a kettle. With a wave of her wand, the kettle floated to each person in the room.

Once it reached her, she tried to shoo it away with her hand, but it kept nudging her insistently until she heard Harry chuckle across the room from his seat on Sev's worn out sofa. "You might as well accept the tea and be done with it? Mum is pretty persistent when she's worried."

Lily scoffed next to him but didn't correct him. She allowed the kettle to fill up her cup and fixed the tea to her liking—two sugars, no milk.

After a few moments, Sev stood from his chair, clearing his throat and directing all attention to himself. "It's been a trying day for everyone, but I believe Hermione has something she needs to tell you all."

Her heart lodged itself in her throat when everyone looked at her expectantly. She wanted to do this—needed to do this. But old fears reared their ugly heads: the taunts, the names, everything she had come to expect from others. She wasn't sure if she would be able to take it from these people, the group of individuals she'd somehow bonded with so quickly despite knowing them for such a short period of time.

She took a deep inhale and met Severus' steady gaze. She could do it. She would do it. With that, she took a deep breath.

Hermione looked between the two boys, James, and Lily sheepishly. Steeling herself, she said, "I know I haven't known you long, but there's something that I've been keeping from you. Given the events of tonight, Sev and I think it would be beneficial to tell you all."

Draco wrinkled his nose up at the nickname. "Sev? Since when did you allow nicknames, Uncle Severus?"

Hermione stifled a laugh at Snape's long-suffering sigh. "I don't allow nicknames, but it has unfortunately stuck despite my insistence otherwise. That, however, is not the point."

Hermione nodded. "The point is that I've been keeping something important from you that I think could be part of what happened to Harry tonight." She cast her eyes downward before steeling herself to go on. "My name is Hermione Granger, but I'm not a half-blood. I'm Muggle-born."

Silence reigned for a moment before Harry started laughing. "That's what you've been keeping from us? I'm sorry, Hermione, but what's the big deal?"

She shook her head. "It's more than that." She looked at Sev for support and he nodded at her. "Apparently, I have altered time in another dimension. Where we are now—it's an entirely new dimension. The only thing the same across both as far as I'm aware is that we're all here. Every event from my birth onward has been altered."

Draco was the first to speak. "What do you mean, a new dimension?"

Severus answered for her. "We don't know much. Professor Dumbledore seems to be much more knowledgeable in the particulars than we are." Hermione tuned out, listening to an explanation much like that he gave her parents. She focused instead on their reactions.

Harry and Draco looked wonderstruck and confused more than anything. Lily and James followed along, brows scrunched as they listened to the intricacies of the situation. When Severus was finished, he leaned forward in his chair. "Above all else, Miss Granger needs protection in this timeline. She is not a threat to you."

Lily and James looked at each other in disbelief for a moment before James spoke, quiet rage simmering below his words. "Severus, our son was just attacked in front of the whole of Hogwarts, and you're telling us that she needs protection right now? What about our son?"

Hermione swore that she could cut the tension in the room with a spoon, it was so thick. When no one moved or said anything, her heart sank. Slowly, she lowered her cup to Sev's desk and closed her eyes to still her shaking hands. "I understand that you don't trust me." She swallowed a self-deprecating laugh to mask the disappointment that she felt. She tried to tell herself that it would be okay; she'd been without friends for so long that it wouldn't hurt too much to lose them. And yet— "It's a crazy tale. I wouldn't believe it if it didn't explain so much, but—"

"But without Miss Granger, you would not be here to be having this argument." Sev cut in. Both the Potters paled significantly. "If what Dumbledore has told me is correct, you were killed the night he attacked you in Godric's Hollow. This set into motion a chain of events that led Voldemort to target your son year after year, hellbent on his destruction. And, without Hermione, he likely wouldn't have made it because—like you, James—your son seems to run headlong into danger with a reckless abandon that rivals even his godfather."

Draco spoke over James' protests. "So why is this such a secret? It's not like Voldemort knows in this time?"

Sev shook his head. "It stands to reason that if Dumbledore found a way to contact himself in this dimension, then one of Voldemort's followers, if not himself, found a way to contact him here. If we're to play this smartly, we need to maintain Miss Granger's cover and—"

"And we need a plan of attack," Lily breathed. "Severus, this is crazy. They're just children. We've been fighting this since he was in Hogwarts."

"How can we even fight something that we can't find?" James said.

Hermione's mind was whirling, trying to keep up with the feud between the friends. Something was just beyond her grasp, an idea that was taunting her, but she couldn't quite reach it.

Severus continued. "We'll come up with a plan. Someone has to have seen something." His voice softened. "Lily, James, I know you don't want to talk about it, but do you have any idea where Wormtail might—"

James barely contained his snarl. "I don't know if anything I know about the bastard is the truth. I haven't seen him since the night before he betrayed us. If I could tell myself then what I know now—"

Something clicked in Hermione's head, and she gasped out, "That's it!" Every head in the room turned to look at her, expectant gazes on their faces. "Sev, you remember that afternoon you explained to my parents and I what was happening, right?" He nodded. "Well, later that afternoon, you told my father that there was something called a Pensieve that could be used to view old memories. That's what you said Dumbledore would use when he finally talks to me about what happened, when he finally explains it all to me—if he explains it all to me."

Sev nodded, not at all surprised that she remembered such a small detail if his expression was any indication.

Hermione continued. "The only person who has all the knowledge in this situation is Dumbledore, and—" she swallowed, bracing herself for the backlash at her next statement. "I don't trust him. Something about him seems off, almost like we're a specimen he's observing for reaction."

Lily pursed her lips. "We've noticed. Since that night, the night that Voldemort attacked, he's seemed off, but we can't do anything to prove it."

Hermione nodded. "I don't have much experience in magic—I've only known that I'm a witch for a few months—but I know when to trust my instincts. There's something off about Dumbledore. And if we can find a way to access his memories—"

Snape's eyes narrowed, and he let loose a disbelieving snort. "We can. He keeps a copy of his most important memories in vials in his office, conveniently alongside his Pensieve. We would need a distraction—"

"I think I can handle that," James cut in. "I bet I can have Sirius here within the hour to help out, for old times' sake." His eyes glowed with mischief.

Severus nodded, and Hermione fought the hope she felt rising within her. Despite what she'd expected, they had accepted her explanation, despite how outlandish it seemed, without much fuss, and now they were plotting how to take memories of one of the most powerful wizards that the wizarding world had. It was overwhelming, and she spoke without thinking. "I'll get the memories."

The room went into a frenzy as all the adults protested and Draco and Harry chimed in that they would help her. With a swish of Sev's wand, a loud crack echoed through the room and silenced everyone. He spoke. "I understand your desire to prove yourself, Hermione, but you don't know what you're looking for, and we can't risk you being caught bumbling around the Headmaster's office." His tone softened at her crestfallen expression. "We will go together. I will guard the room and instruct you on what you're looking for. Once you have it, we'll leave. I have a personal Pensieve that we may use." Another wave of his wand sent a wardrobe door open and featured a glowing blue pool of what Hermione thought was water. "Draco and Harry will stay here." He ignored the boys' protests.

James and Lily stood from the couch. "We'll get Sirius here. Remus is—currently indisposed," James said, avoiding Hermione's gaze and setting her curiosity aflame.

She watched Severus roll his eyes to the heavens. "I'll likely regret this, but we're in accordance. We'll meet back here at half after midnight; Dumbledore is likely to be in his quarters by then. In the meantime, we'll get the children to their common rooms."

"Um, Professor? What common room should we go to?" Harry glanced at his feet. "Seeing as how none of us were sorted, we don't have a house." There was a slight waver to his voice, though Hermione saw that he tried to paste a valiant smile on his face.

James chuffed his son's head. "Harry, we all know you're a Gryffindor. The Potter men are always Gryffindors."

Lily laughed at her husband and reached over to brush her son's hair from his face. Hermione's heart clenched at the display of affection; to think that this wouldn't exist if the warp hadn't occurred.

Severus sighed, pinching his nose. "As I'm sure I won't be getting any sleep tonight, you can sleep in my room. Just don't touch anything. Understood?" He levelled an imperious glare at them.

Draco stared at Sev in awe and whispered to Hermione, "What did you do to Uncle Severus?"

She laughed. "There's a lot you have to learn about Sev, apparently."

James snickered as Sev ushered her and the boys out of his office to get and into the adjacent room. As they were walking away, she heard him giddily whisper to Lily, "Just wait until I tell Pads that we've convinced Severus Snape to help us break into Dumbledore's office."


End file.
